Trapped

Hey, is this thing on? Hello? Hello?

Small red light. Good.

Okay.

So.

Get this.

I’m in a room. I’ve never seen this place before. I don’t know how I got here, or even where I am for that matter, but that doesn’t change the fact: I’m in a mysterious room. Does this thing do video? I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s too dark to see much in here, anyways. Hay, I can barely see in front of my own hoof in here.

Okay, so, a few things about me. My name’s Time Turner. I’m an earth pony from Ponyville, and I’m the town records keeper. Not exactly the most exciting of jobs or existences, I know, but that doesn’t matter. What matters right now is that I’m in a room, I woke up maybe five or ten minutes ago, and this recorder-thingy is the first thing I found. Spent some time tinkering with it. Hopefully, this red dot means it’s recording.

Hopefully, someone who can help me is listening. If you’re the sod who dumped me in here, then I hate you and you can choke on a banana and die, but if you’re just somepony who’s happened to hear me... Help me, please!

I’m, eh, actually kind of scared of being alone, so I’ll just keep talking to you. I don’t know who you might be--I don’t even know if anyone’ll ever hear me--but really, I don’t care. It’s not that I love the sound of my own voice, but it is oddly therapeutic. It makes me feel safe--oh, Celestia, I just felt something crawl up my leg.

Alrighty, then. I’m going to see if there are any lights around. Wait here.

Well, you’re not going anywhere soon, I suppose.

Ouch! What was...

Who puts a pipe in the middle of a room?! Is this a basement?

Found it! The switch was on the other side of the room! Not the easiest to find, since it was in a corner (and I think my hoof is covered in dust and spider webs, but no helping that), but I found it. This room is...

...surprisingly empty.

There’s no windows.

There’s no door.

There’s no Celestia-forsaken door.

Calm down, Time. There must be a rational explanation to all of this. A trap in the ceiling. A hidden staircase. A... revolving wall, maybe? What’s in here, anyways?

There’s the camera in the wall, propped up in an alcove. Or rather, glued into an alcove. The lens is horribly cracked, but it looks like the sound is still working. Wires going into the back, through a hole in the brick... Ah, yes. The walls are all brick.

There’s a laundry machine to the left of the camera, a dryer to the right of that, the pipe from the ceiling in the shape of a very wide U reaching from nearly one wall to the other--the pipe I hit my head on earlier--and a bookcase with two books on it in a sorry pile, leaning over each other like bags of flour. 101 Ways to Prepare a Pumpkin and Court Rulings: 891-991. I don’t think either of them are going to do much to help me.

I pulled both of them off the shelf, hoping it would move the bookcase. It didn’t. Well, don’t I feel silly now.

There’s no crack behind the bookcase, either. Doesn’t look like there’s any secret passage to be had here. Ach.

Hey-y-y! What on earth-th-th?

There was a box inside the dryer.

It’s locked.

You probably can’t see it, but it’s purple and lined with gold filigree and...

Well, it’s gaudy. It looks like something seen in those magazines full of rich-pony things that normal ponies can’t afford. Actually, come to think of it, this looks a lot like my Aunt Buttercup’s necklace box.

Hsss...!

Wedging my hoof between the cracks didn’t do anything besides hurt my hoof. Ow...

Is it just me, or are the walls closer together than they were before? I think it’s just me. I know it’s just me. It’s just me.

The laundry machine’s got a few coins in it. One whole bit and about twenty-two cents in two nickels, two pennies, and a dime. Not a lot, but I’ve made it a habit not to leave anything in the wash.

Trying to think. How did I end up here? I don’t remember, not one bit. I’m not even sure what the last thing I remember was. Said good-night to the mayor, left town hall, brought home some paperwork to file through... Then a blank. It must have been then, when I was walking home. No memory, no marks on my hooves, no blindfold (that I remember). A unicorn?

I can’t even tell how long ago it was. There’s no sense of time in here except for the buzzing light bulb in the middle of the ceiling. Is it day? Night? I have no idea.

I’m kind of hungry.

Looking at the pumpkin cookbook didn’t help matters, either. Though, this pumpkin-eggplant stew looks particularly tantalizing...

Some of the passages are highlighted. Other pages, dog-eared. They seem pretty random, though--“4. Preheat oven to 375°F.” is highlighted while the page it’s on isn’t dog-eared, but a dog-eared page like the recipe for pumpkin flambé is dog-eared while there are no highlights on it.

Same with the book of court stuff.

Underneath the laundry machine, which stands on four small white pegs, there’s something shiny. I can’t tell what it is, though.

There’s a crack back there. Behind the washing machine, in the shape of a square. A way out, maybe? It simply has to be. Unless there’s something behind the dryer, I don’t think there’s any other way in or out besides teleportation.

Now I know the walls are closing in on me. Are they? They are. They aren’t. But there’s something different about the bricks. They looked a lot more evenly paved before just now. Now they’re all... uneven. Jagged. Some protruding out from the wall by almost half a centimeter, even though the mortar between the bricks are clearly holding them in place.

Not a good idea, using my still-hurting hoof to pound at one of those sticking-out bricks. Ow. Well, it’s stuck in there tight. Or rather, stuck out there tight.

What’s that smell?

I need to get out. I need to get out.

I need to get out! I NEED TO GET OUT!

NO! WHO ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? TURN THE LIGHTS BACK ON AND SHOW YOURSELF! I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE! I WON’T CAPITULATE! I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL

Hey, is this thing on? Hello? Hello?

Small red light. Good. And a screen? Blinking cursor.

Okay.

So.

Get this.

I’m in a room.